Love Isn't Always Practical
by falling.petals
Summary: Haruhi makes a discovery that shatters her heart. Can the other host club members help her pick up the pieces? Maybe even offer her a new romance? A/N:It's been awhile, so feel free to read from the beginning again, if you can bear to. Update: Chapter 8.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Story Title: Love Isn't Practical

Pairings: KyoxHaru; MorixHaru; TamaxHaru(?)

Disclaimer: Bisco Hatori owns Ouran, not me.

* * *

It's been a year now since we first started dating. Secretly, of course, though I'm sure Renge and her followers wouldn't mind if they discovered our "moe" relationship. But Kyouya had insisted that it was kept under wraps, so our less moe-inclined customers don't desert the club.

Actually, it's been exactly a year. Today is our anniversary; exactly one year since he came up to me and told me he loved me. He did. Tamaki. Fear and apprehension and anxiety, but most of all, wanting and affection in his violet eyes. I guess the Prince and the Pauper were actually meant for each other.

I wonder if he remembered about today. I almost forgot too; the only reason I remembered was because of the twins. They hauled me off as soon as I stepped onto school grounds, insisting that I wear something "special" for Tamaki. It included bunny ears. Honestly, some things never change.

I managed to scrape some cookies together during home economics class, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind. It was after school, and I was on my way to the third music room, passing through the courtyard when I heard a giggle behind the bushes.

And Tamaki's voice.

_Probably doing some off-site hosting. He's just trying to get new customers._ I tried to calm my nerves. I peeked behind the hedges, careful so I wouldn't be seen.

They were sitting on a wooden bench, though the seat was patterned in gold-leaf and way too extravagant, like everything in this rich-kid school. He was whispering to her, and the girl was staring almost hypnotically into his eyes.

I breathed a silent sigh of relief. It was off-site hosting after all. I turned to go.

Then. He. Kissed. Her.

That day Tamaki confessed his love, he told me he had never kissed a girl. He flirted with them at every moment, but that was just part of being a host. He promised me that if I loved him back, his lips were mine and mine only. I couldn't believe that on the same day, exactly one year later, he would break his promise.

At first I couldn't understand. He hadn't acted any differently recently. Why now? But it was completely logical. He had always wanted a girl who would walk on beaches with him, someone who was more feminine. Someone who wasn't me. That was always his type, wasn't it? He just realized his mistake a little too late. His shomin obsession was only temporary, lasting only as long as the love he proclaimed to feel for me.

I knew it would be practical if stepped in right now and ended our relationship in a calm, mature manner. Well, maybe being with Tamaki has rubbed off on me, because I don't do the practical thing. Instead, I run, my feet pounding the pavement to the beat of my broken heart.

--

Inside, up the stairs through the window of the third music room, five pairs of eyes watch the scene below them.

* * *

A/N: Oh? What's this? A cliffhanger? Could this terrible author actually have the guts to write a multi-chapter story? But really, if you do like it, please say so, because I don't want to write something no one reads. Oh yes, and I put a question mark next to the Tama/Haru pairing because I'm leaving it up to the readers to vote if they want it there. I can make him come back groveling. (And the Tamaki fans are planning to murder me now...)


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I would just like to give a big thank you to everyone who reviewed and even added this story to their favorites list. It was a great surprise! So, thanks! Your input was very encouraging, (which was why I updated quickly, I guess!) Also, since Haru won't be appearing much here, this chapter won't be in her POV. Sorry if it's confusing.

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Ouran isn't mine.

Parings: Once again, anything is possible… (except for HanixHaru. I just don't like that pairing. Sorry!)

* * *

This is the second day she's been in her room. Her eyes, unseeing, were dry. The tears had all been used up. Her mind was blank; she willed it to be. Any thought in her head would just remind her of…no. Nothing. Her mind is empty as a slate.

The door slid open. Her father stepped in, carrying some food. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see, not even her father. He always acted too much like…no, no. There is no one.

"H-Haruhi?" Ranka kneeled gently on the floor by the futon where his daughter lay. When she had first come home in tears, he acted like he always did. Ranting and cursing, arms flailing wildly, he yelled that whoever hurt his precious daughter would pay. But it only made her cry harder. Ranka realized he wasn't making anything better. He wasn't stupid. He knew, no matter how much he despised the blond-haired insect, he knew that Haruhi carried a special place in her heart for him. Then that vile insect had taken that heart and broken it.

He also knew that, despite his hatred, Ranka reminded his daughter of Tamaki. That was the worst part.

Gently, he stroked her hair. Her limbs were limp like a puppet's._ Haruhi, I'm so sorry,_ he thought. _I knew I wasn't the perfect father in the first place. But I thought I could protect you. I was wrong. I relied on you more than you did on me._

"Haruhi…forgive me."

--

"Yes, that's fine. Thank you, Ranka-san. Please send our regards." Kyouya snapped his phone shut and slid it into his pocket. He quietly surveyed the room. The hosts were doing their duty as normally as they could. The customers were to know nothing about their discovery, not that they knew about Haruhi and Tamaki in the first place. But more importantly, Tamaki would also remain unaware. Kyouya had asked his fellow witnesses not to confront him. At least, not yet.

But it couldn't be helped. Hikaru, Kaoru, Hani, even Mori would sneak glances at the wayward King when they thought no one was looking.

Kyouya felt a presence behind him and turned. It was Mori. He looked at his spectacled lower-classman questioningly. Kyouya shook his head. And, for the benefit of any of the customers that were watching them, he added, "Haruhi is still…sick."

Mori nodded once, then returned to his shorter cousin's side. Hani had been the most in shock, as his innocent mind processed the events he had seen through the window.

"Takashi," Hani had asked on the fateful afternoon two days ago, "Tama-chan is just joking right? He wouldn't hurt Haru-chan like that on purpose, would he?"

Mori had not responded, but continued to stare out the window, almost impassively. Only the hard set of his jaw and the black fire that burned in his eyes betrayed the fury that years of self-training worked hard to conceal.

Hikaru had not been as controlled. If Kaoru had not held him back…there might have been a major disaster among the host club. And Kaoru almost didn't try. The twins, though seething with anger, had to listen to Kyouya's reasoning. Because ultimately, if they had to confront Tamaki, it couldn't be at school, lest they reveal Haruhi's true identity.

Truly, only Kyouya, ever calculating and ever prepared, continued to write on his files indifferently. He was a bit taken aback by Haruhi's reaction, but not by much. According to his resources, Tamaki was her first boyfriend, maybe even her first love. Which meant he was also her first heartbreak. Even sensible Haruhi would be prone to such a response.

But though he kept his cool, and absolutely no one would expect just by looking at him, under the mask other emotions were in turmoil. Anger, of course, and sympathy for Haruhi. But there was something else. It was this unknown emotion that puzzled his ingenious mind, and cost him quite a bit of sleep. This did not affect his temper in a good way.

"Kyouya?" Tamaki had come up next to him too, a gaggle of girls on his heels. Kyouya noticed that Tamaki's new girl did not come to the club. Of course, she didn't need to. Tamaki probably set time aside for her, personally. "When is Haruhi coming back?" The King asked, concern on his face.

_Fake_, Kyouya thought. He felt that unknown emotion flare up inside again, and he couldn't help but answer coldly, "I don't know what you perceive me to be, Tamaki, but I am no fortune teller. As for you, I'm surprised you didn't rush over to her house at the first word of her illness. Have you been busy…?"

Tamaki blinked in surprise. Kyouya cursed at himself. That was not how an Ohtori behaved.

Smoothly, he added with a smile, "Of course, I'm not complaining. I'd rather not be dragged into another house visit." He turned and strolled away leisurely as a crowd of girls rushed up to Tamaki, asking what _exactly_ happened in those house visits.

Kyouya was aware of the other hosts' stares. He couldn't believe he had reacted in such a way either. It was a mistake. And everybody knew Kyouya Ohtori did not make mistakes.

This was all because of that stupid _feeling_, and he couldn't even name it.

He had to do something about it, he decided. He would go to his sole trusted confidante, the person who understood the Kyouya behind the mask.

He would go to his big sister.

* * *

A/N: Did all their reactions seem in-character? I did Kyouya first just because I love him so much. I am planning to write about Mori next, but I want to know, how many people want Haruhi to have some romance with one of the twins (or both)? I know they would be the most likely to confront Tamaki, but it'll be a bit more complicated (for me at least) if they like Haruhi too. I'd love to hear from you, dear readers!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Pairings: Still nothing definite.

Disclaimer: Ouran is not mine.

A/N: A small note over here: I do not hate Tamaki! I feel really bad for what I'm doing for him, but I just like other pairings better, that's all. I haven't gotten any hate mail from Tamaki fangirls just yet, but that may be because they aren't reading this story in the first place. Ah, well. I don't like hate mail anyway. :)

* * *

It was a noisy afternoon at the Haninozuka mansion. Of course, being a martial arts family, with daily training going on and students coming in and out constantly, the grounds were always noisy. So in order to get away from it all, the two cousins, short and tall, opted for an empty, grassy field near a river a few miles away. Here, on a small island of solitude, they worked through their thoughts.

Mitsukuni clutched his bunny, for the first time not paying attention to the sweets sitting on the picnic blanket before him. Lost in thought, he simply watched as his companion trained, though his childish eyes were not really seeing.

Takashi was thinking too. But he felt better with a sword on hand. Kyouya had let his emotions get the better of him today, but Mori found that training his body was a good outlet, a way he could release his cooped up emotions. So he practiced, moving with natural agility though his mind was somewhere else.

Being a naturally quiet person, and in accordance with his training, Mori kept his thoughts and feelings inside. But with the incident two days ago, he was finding it extremely hard to do that. The urge to confront the cheating King was overwhelming.

Not being one to lie to himself, he knew and accepted that Haruhi was special to him. She understood him in a way different from anyone else, from Hani even. She knew he spoke with his actions, and that they were truer than anything he could voice out loud. She knew he was different from the other rich students at Ouran. His lineage really was a servant's lineage (servant to an extremely well-known family, but a servant nevertheless), and because of it, she felt closer to him. At least, he wanted her to be. These feelings he had to lock up for the past year too.

But he had always silently vowed to protect her, even if she belonged to someone else. She knew she was happy, and that was all he needed to know to be happy too. Though she didn't feel the same about him, at least she was with the person she did love. He just didn't expect that that same person would be the one to hurt her. If only he knew…if only he was ready. Even if she didn't feel the same, at least she would be safe. Even if she was in someone else's arms. But he wasn't ready. He didn't foresee the events, he didn't realize what was happening. A warrior was always prepared. How could he claim to be her protector now?

"Takashi?" A voice called him out of his reverie. It was Hani, staring at him wide-eyed.

Takashi realized he was out of breath, panting. Sweat was dripping from his back. The once tall grass around him was shredded to the ground. He was gripping his sword so hard that the hilt left visible marks on his palm.

"I apologize, Mitsukuni. Where you calling me for long?" The short blond shook his head, still wide-eyed, but motioned for Mori to pick up a water bottle.

Hani watched his cousin down the water. He had never seen Mori display such anger so openly, or any emotion for that matter. It was a bit frightening, seeing him slashing his sword so violently. The only explanation would be…

"Takashi, you're blaming yourself aren't you?" Hani asked suddenly. Takashi lowered the now empty water bottle and looked at him without replying. "Because you shouldn't. I don't know why Tama-chan would do such a thing either, but I know it isn't your fault. So don't feel bad, okay? I think this'll all work out."

Mori looked away. He could tell that Hani was having a hard time. He couldn't cope with all the evil and wrongdoings in the world. He turned his back on them on purpose, and pretended that only good, sweet things existed. Mori could understand why his cousin would react that way. But he wasn't like that.

"I wanted to protect her too," Hani added, as if reading his companion's mind. "But we can't change the past. All we can do is try to change the future." Mori glanced at his beloved friend, wondering when he had begun to grasp such wisdom. Maybe he had done some growing up. But Hani was right. There really was no point in trying to punish himself for something he had no control over.

Finally, Hani grinned and reached for a slice of cake. "All we can do now is cheer her up, right?"

Mori nodded, a slight smile touching his lips.

* * *

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this chapter. Mori's character is a bit different from the other MorixHaru stories I've read, I think. But I hope I've stayed true to Bisco Hatori's version. Hani too! By the way, I've received requests for a HikaxHaru chapter, which I'm probably going to post next. Sorry, I'm writing so many different chapters about the same day! And as always, please review and vote for your favorite pairing! I really want to answer each review personally, and I might do that if I find enough time, though it's kind of late. Meanwhile, a big thank you to all my reviewers and everyone who is following this story!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Disclaimer: Hatori Bisco owns Ouran. I'm guessing 4 disclaimers are enough. I always almost forget to put them on here. What a pain.

* * *

"Hikaru…"

"No, Kaoru."

"But—"

"No."

The younger Hitachiin sighed and kept quiet, for the time being. Though the siblings had never been in an all-out fight before, they still argued, though to a much smaller degree. And the reason they were currently bickering would have been completely absurd under any other circumstance. But as it was, they weren't exactly under normal conditions.

Two days previous after the hosts discovered Tamaki's betrayal, the club opened normally, minus Haruhi. Of course, they all had to pretend that everything was normal so Tamaki wouldn't get suspicious, but the number of times either twin almost slipped up and lost control were countless. They had to rely on each other, rein each other's emotions in to maintain the façade that all was well.

And all was definitely not well.

Kaoru realized this even more _after_ the club ended. The tense atmosphere hovered around the two brothers even during the ride home. Both stared out their windows, annoyed that Haruhi had been hurt and they couldn't do anything about it (a.k.a., bashing Tamaki's head in).

"Kaoru," Hikaru had said suddenly, making his younger brother look up in surprise. "I was thinking. If Haruhi is unhappy, well, it wouldn't be fair if we were having fun right? So… so maybe we should give up doing pranks. Without making others suspicious, I mean. At least, until we see that Haruhi is better again."

Kaoru could only stare at his brother in wonder. After a few moments, he grinned and murmured, "You're back."

Because the truth was, Hikaru was in love with Haruhi. Hikaru had always been in love with Haruhi, even before he was aware of the fact himself. He may not have had the guts to tell anyone, but Kaoru knew, just like he always did. And he could only imagine the pain his brother must've endured for a whole year. Jealousy, rejection, he had to lock it all away, and Kaoru knew it almost killed him inside to do so.

Like a child, Hikaru was always compared, when it came to controlling his feelings. He didn't know how to hold it back. But he had to take it out on _something_.

So Hikaru forced himself to go back to before he joined the host club; before he thought it was possible for anyone to care for him: his individual self, and not just as "one of the Hitachiins." To before he met Haruhi.

He made himself return to the protective shell that he and Kaoru had escaped together in. He rebuilt the barrier between him and the world, because from what he had learned, he knew now that anyone who could go through that barrier would only hurt him.

His world consisted of only him and his twin once more. Which meant everyone else was simply there for their amusement, just their playthings again. And one did not feel love or jealousy or rejection because of a plaything.

Only by disguising his feelings from himself, only then could Hikaru find any peace in the storm that existed inside him.

Kaoru watched his brother change during the course of the year. Or more appropriately, change back. But if that was the only way for Hikaru to find any relief, well, his own brother wasn't going to stop him. If the others noticed, they didn't show it. Not Tamaki, and especially not Haruhi. They were too caught up with each other.

But two days ago, seeing Haruhi hurt: that was the trigger. Deep inside, buried under all the sorrow, he still cared for her. Not as a mere toy, but as a person, as a friend, and even more than that. He saw her that day, and it was as if a dam had burst open, all his previous anguish channeled into fury… and once again, love.

So even if it meant giving up the very thing that defined the mischievous Hitachiin twins, Kaoru went along with Hikaru's plan. He hoped it could eventually lead to Hikaru accepting and finally confessing his feelings someday.

At least, at first.

Every one knew Kaoru was the calmer, relatively normal twin (key word being "relatively"), but on day two, he was unbearably, incredibly, inexorably… bored. Not that he didn't care about Haruhi, but denying themselves fun wasn't making her life any better. When Kaoru asked his brother how he could stand it, Hikaru simply smiled and replied, "A year is a long time." And so the bickering continued. Indeed, Hikaru was back, but he was different somehow; changed. Did that mean Hikaru actually learned some patience after all?

Whatever the case, Kaoru needed to convince his brother. He needed to make Haruhi smile. She missed school two days in a row, something normal Haruhi wouldn't even imagine doing. He guessed she must still be an emotional wreck. So what could Kaoru do to make her happy? Sure, so he could make fangirls squeal and swoon, but he had never really done something special for a friend, just to see them happy. Which, Kaoru realized, as he mentally smacked himself on the forehead, wasn't good at all. Their world was still much smaller than he thought.

However, Kaoru could only think of one thing that would make Haruhi smile for sure, and not to mention pull his brother out of this uncharacteristic masochism. He was sure Hikaru was dying from boredom too.

So when he found a minute alone (because unlike popular belief, though the twins are symmetrical in form and even thought, they don't necessarily get bathroom urges at the same time), Kaoru pulled out his phone. "Butler, what's the most expensive sushi restaurant in town?"

* * *

A/N: I suppose this is the spot where I grovel to everyone for forgiveness. Because:

1) I took forever to post this chapter. My fault entirely. I was put off writing this chapter for a week, then I had to find a beta, but because of my laziness it took another week. Which reminds me, a big thank you to this chapter's beta, **tweakinuears**!  
2) All my chapters are annoyingly short. My creativeness seems to taper off somewhere around the 600-700 word range.  
3) Hikaru was quite ooc, but I really couldn't think of any other way he would release his anger for the moment.

So I've listed my faults (the ones I could think of anyway), and if you find it in your hearts to forgive me, or if you don't and you want to rant about it, please review! Another heartfelt thank you to everyone who _did_ review in the past, and to those who continue to read and follow this messed-up adventure! See you all soon in the next chapter! Hopefully, that is.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: The author of this fanfiction owns no part of the merhandise known as Ouran High School Host Club, or any of the characters and ideas therein. Wow, that sounded so professional!

* * *

Chapter 5

"You're losing sleep over it. It haunts your every waking thought. It shadows your every move, even your dreams. Oh, Kyouya," Fuyumi sighed extravagantly, almost upsetting the teacup sitting in front of her, "when _ever_ did you grow up? How could I have missed this?"

The siblings were in a (very large) greenhouse, an extension of the mansion that Fuyumi's husband owned. It simulated an African rainforest, sporting a waterfall and an exact replica of the ruins of an ancient civilization, indigenous plants and ivy wrapped around the toppled marble columns and dilapidated gold-painted walls. The lush, perfectly overgrown vegetation soared towards the mile-high diamond glass ceiling, letting just enough light through to create a beautiful, dappled look on the "forest" floor.

_All in all, not a bad investment,_ Kyouya thought when his sister led him towards a patio set in the heart of the "ruins." _A perfect place to entertain possible customers and business associates. Quite cunning._

When his limo showed up unannounced at her front gate, she knew something was up. She immediately ordered security to wave him in, and then took him to the most private place she knew. Here, Kyouya began with, "I know my visit is unexpected, but I have a bit of a conundrum that I believe only you can help me with…"

Half an hour and several cups of tea later, Kyouya glanced up from his ponderings at his sister's comment. "Oneesan. I'm fully capable of handling business transactions worth billions of yen, I can salvage a bankrupt company and turn into a success within a week, and I can make business allies that can get me to any position I want on a business's corporal ladder. Why does my 'growing up' surprise you?"

Fuyumi laughed. "No, no, no. Not business matters!" She held a finger to her lips like she knew something he didn't. "See if you can guess. It's not that hard."

Kyouya sighed. "Fuyumi-neesan, I came for answers, not riddles. I'm tired enough as it is."

"Kyouya, Kyouya," she pandered, bouncing in her chair like an impatient child who couldn't wait to tell her secret. Her teacup was dangerously close to falling. "I didn't know you were so naïve. Ah well, I suppose if you can't figure it out yourself..." She leaned in closer. "Little brother… you're in love." She leaned back, an all-knowing smile crossing her lips.

The spectacled Ohtori did not reply for one minute. Two. Then, sliding his glasses smoothly up the bridge of his nose, a confident smile mirroring his sister's appeared.

"I have compiled a list of evidences that prove beyond a doubt that you are mistaken, Neesan."

Fuyumi rolled her eyes. _I forgot the first stage is always denial._

"First," Kyouya continued, "I assume you are basing your 'advice' on fictionalized shoujo romance novels—"

"Hey, hey, wait a minute!" Fuyumi interrupted. "What do you mean?"

"You were in an arranged marriage. Obviously you can't rely on your own experience."

"Just because I was in an arranged marriage doesn't mean I haven't fallen in love!" Fuyumi huffed. She stood from her chair, grabbing the teacup right before it teetered off the edge of the table.

"The difference between a schoolyard crush and actually loving someone is the level on which you know them. To love someone is to know their weaknesses and faults, yet want them by your side despite it all. That's why I know I have fallen in love with my husband, and I still am. Our marriage was beyond my control, but I wouldn't have had it any other way. So you," she stuck out a finger at her younger brother, "have only started to love her because you've only started to know her."

Kyouya was mildly surprised at his sister's outburst, but he gazed at her with a cool expression when he replied, "No matter what you say, it is impossible. We are separated by an unbridgeable financial gap. To 'fall in love,' as you insist I am doing, with a commoner like Haruhi goes against all my values and principles as an Ohtori." He glanced at his watch and stood up. "I should be going. I see that I'm going to have to solve this puzzle myself. Goodbye, Neesan."

Kyouya left without another word, leaving Fuyumi to stare after him. After a while, she shook her head in exasperation, and sat back down, resting her chin on her hands. To no one, she whispered, "Love doesn't submit to rules. Not even being an Ohtori can change that."

--

(Shift into Haruhi's POV)

It was all just a bad dream. _Wasn't it?_ There's no way a pain like this could be real. _Could it?_ No way he would betray me, hurt me, not him. _Would he?_

No. It's not possible. It shouldn't be.

In fact, I can almost feel him right now, holding me close as if he would never let go, his warmth all over me, everywhere. His fingertips are brushing my skin, my face, his breath ghosting over my lips.

That was when I realized I wasn't imagining anything. My eyes snapped open. "Tama—!"

The eyes that stared back at me, only centimeters away, registered shock and guilt. And they wore… glasses?

"K-Kyouya-sempai?!"

He straightened up, turning away in a millisecond. I was so confused, and my head was spinning. What just happened there? Did Kyouya-sempai just try to…?

It didn't matter in a few moments, because suddenly my head felt like it was being pounded by a mallet, and it felt like I hadn't eaten or drunk anything in days, to which my stomach conceded, growling loudly. But the physical pain was once again overshadowed as reality crashed once more.

It wasn't a dream, the pain was real, and he did hurt me. I didn't know what I expected. That he would come here to apologize? I bet he doesn't even know that I found out. Returning to my dreams suddenly seemed very appealing.

"What are you doing here, sempai? Who let you in?" I asked, my voice hoarse and cracking from lack of water. My eyelids were beginning to slide closed.

He turned to face me again, his face the usual mask, calm and emotionless, without trace of surprise left. Like nothing happened. He looked at me calculatingly before answering. "Ranka-san informed me of your illness. He let me in."

"Dad is home? He should be at work."

"He took yesterday and today off. He told me you haven't responded or moved for two days."

So that was my cover story. I was supposedly "sick." It wasn't far from the truth, really. But I wished Dad didn't take a day off for my sake. He wouldn't be able to use his vacations for resting instead.

I tried to sit up, but I was just too weak to do any more than prop up my pillows and use them as support. Kyouya motioned towards a bowl of soup on the floor. It was cold, but I began to eat anyway. He continued to watch from his spot next to my futon. I squinted up at him. "You didn't answer my question, sempai."

"And what would that be?"

"I asked what you were doing here."

He blinked. "To tell you to get better soon of course."

"Is that supposed to be an order?"

To my surprise, he began to chuckle. His laugh was so rare that it was hard not to stare. "Feeling better already, I see," he replied, a slight smile gracing his features. Another rare moment. He really should do it more often. He would get so many more designations. But something was amiss…

I tried to look closer, past the glint of his glasses at his surprisingly expressive eyes. "You already know, don't you?"

The smile vanished, and he gave a single nod.

"How?"

"The same as you."

"What about… him?"

"No. But the others know."

"Oh." My headache was fading as the soup settled in my stomach, and I was finally able to sit up fully. I rested my chin on my knees. "So what's your plan?"

His reply was swift. "Nothing."

My head snapped up. Not a good idea. I cradled my throbbing temples as I asked him in disbelief, "What?!"

"Were you expecting me to do something about it?"

"Well…I guess not really, now that I think about it. But you did come here for a reason."

"This is a personal matter you should handle yourselves. I don't wish to be involved. It gives me no benefit to…"

He trailed off mid-sentence. I looked up (slowly this time) to find him deep in thought. "Sempai?"

"Ah, yes. And I already told you the cause of my visit. It doesn't help your debt any if you're not at school. I advise you to keep that in mind." He stood up and turned towards the door to leave. But he paused for a moment.

"Haruhi… my logic cannot explain why you would punish yourself in such a way when you're already hurt enough, especially since none of this is your fault. It completely goes against your practical nature. I expect to see you at school again soon."

And with that, he was gone. It wasn't until I heard his limo drive away that I was able to think clearly.

_Mother in heaven, did Kyouya Ohtori just try to cheer me up?_

--

(Return to narrator's POV)

Love. People make such a big deal out of this emotion. Movies, books, TV shows, they all exaggerate to make it seem like something so idealistic. There's even a holiday celebrating it. It's all just an industrial plot to make more money. The host club even, however indirectly, relies on this emotion. But really, "love" is simply made up of hormones and chemicals triggered by the brain, similar to adrenaline. Both are instinctual, existing only to prolong the human race. A person sees another with good traits such as health and beauty, the chemicals are triggered, and the traits are passed down to another generation. Survival of the fittest, so to speak.

Exactly the reason why Kyouya Ohtori did not believe in true love. And why he thought it was impossible to fall in love with _her_.

He knew completely that she was a commoner. Poor. He had nothing to gain from loving her. It completely went against the natural will of humans to survive.

So why was it that, on the way home to his mansion, he couldn't get the conversation with Fuyumi out of his head? Why was it that he suddenly ordered his chauffeur to turn around and drive to Haruhi's apartment, when he had a very important meeting that was to take place in a few minutes? Why was it that when he saw her there lying on her futon, completely helpless, a single tear rolling down her cheek, why was it that he couldn't stop himself?

Could Kyouya Ohtori really make a mistake twice on the same day?

He was finding this emotion quite an opponent indeed.

* * *

A/N: Hey guys, author here. I tried to update this as soon as I could, so this wasn't betaed. I'm also sorry for any confusion caused by the POV switch. As you can tell, I've pulled the denial card for our favourite Ohtori. Hope this seems in-character, as I don't think I've seen it in other fics before. I'm trying to put a twist on things, which is a bit difficult as there are 5,000+ Ouran stories out there.

As always, please review because if you don't, I wouldn't know whether or not it's the same person hitting my chapters over and over again!

P.S. If you have time, please check out my latest story. It has a sad ending, but please give it a try!


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

A/N: Yet another slow update... I don't like posting a new chapter until I have the next one planned out already, preferrably written down. But once again, the dreaded writer's block has attacked. It seems that happens every 3 chapters... At least it wasn't as bad as last time. Well, I've delayed enough. Read on!

* * *

Haruhi persuaded herself to believe that she was still recovering from two days without food. True enough. But in fact, she was mostly reeling from that unexpected conversation with Kyouya. She was still wondering whether she imagined the part when he was about to _kiss_ her. She did have a pretty bad headache. She could always blame it on her nutrient-deprived brain.

Oddly enough, she did feel a little better. She wasn't completely depressed anymore, at least, not to the point where she preferred delusions to the truth. But she wasn't ready to face reality, to face him yet.

Haruhi didn't know whether to laugh at herself or cry because of her current state. What happened to her rational, level-headed self? Had it deserted her, too? Kyouya was right. Why was she acting this way? Even when her mother had died, she mourned internally for months, but she had never gotten into such a slump. It just wasn't reasonable.

In fact, why did she even get into the relationship in the first place? It screamed impractical any way you looked at it. Kyouya was wrong about one thing: This was her fault, all of it. If only she had set her priorities straight, if only she had chosen to wait out her feelings… if only she had been strong enough not to lose all control when he had confessed.

But since all of that was in the past, no longer changeable, the least she could do was get herself out of this wreck, starting with regaining her energy. She had to work through it one step at a time, to be able to get her life back in order. Everything rested on her shoulders now, but maybe... maybe she would be able to pull through. It was nice to feel the sensibility kicking in again.

_Food. _That was her first concern. When she gained enough stability to stagger to the kitchen and peek in the refrigerator, what greeted her was… emptiness. She was only down for two days, and the food was already gone? Well, it could've been worse. But before she could think of a plan to remedy the situation, she heard a voice that could only belong to one person.

"Haaaaruuuuuu-chaaaaaaaaaaaan!!"

Immediately she sensed to loli-shota atmosphere that always surrounded her very childish sempai. First the shadow king, now Hani and (of course) Mori? Kyouya assured her Tamaki suspected absolutely nothing, but this felt like an invasion planned by none other than the Host King himself. She inched the door open, and sure enough, another squeal greeted her as Hani barreled through the door. Apparently not noticing that Haruhi was still standing right next to it.

Taken by surprise, the still-weak Haruhi stumbled backwards by the force of the door slamming open in her face, tripping on the raised floor. She had time to mentally sigh in annoyance, bracing herself for the imminent crash.

But she never hit the floor.

She opened her eyes to see the face of Morinozuka Takashi, staring down at her own in worry, and whose reflexes allowed him to catch her just in time. That was one less concussion to worry about.

"Ehh, thank you, Mori-sempai." He simply nodded in welcome and helped her up.

Mori could've sworn Mitsukuni was wearing a triumphant expression as he stood in the doorway, right before rushing forward and fervently apologizing to Haruhi, his face containing only concern. "Are you alright Haru-chan? I didn't know you were standing so close to the door still! I'm so sorry… please forgive me!" Hani stared up at her, a perfect pout on his lips and teardrops pooling on his lashes.

"Ah, don't cry Hani-sempai! I'm fine, see?" Haruhi hurried to console him. In a flash, Hani's tears vanished and his sparkly demeanor returned.

"I know! We can make up over cake! Haru-chan likes strawberry, ne?"

It was then that Haruhi noticed that Mori was holding a box, balancing it on his shoulder with the aid of his left hand. His right was still snaked around her waist, in the same position in which he had caught her.

"I'm alright, Mori-sempai, I promise," she assured him. "You can put your hand down now."

Hani clamped down on a giggle as Mori dropped his arm, looking away either in embarrassment or in search of the kitchen.

Haruhi led them to the dining room, Hani skipping after her, where Mori set down his box and began taking slice after slice of different strawberry-topped, strawberry filled, strawberry icing-iced strawberry cakes. And Haruhi had to admit, her eyes grew wide. "Your choice," her tall sempai said simply.

"Um…" She eyed them all, doubting they were just for her. At least half would be downed by Hani, she knew. So she settled for a slice that was the least extravagant, setting another one aside for Ranka. _Speaking of which, where was he? Didn't Kyouya say that Dad let him in? _She wondered.

"Take the first bite, Haru-chan!" Hani encouraged, after Haruhi had fetched some forks. So she speared a piece and scooped a delicacy in her mouth, unconsciously closing her eyes to savor the taste. She might be ruining her appetite for dinner, but she needed the sugar. Everything was so sweet it was almost… distracting.

"Mmm," she found herself murmuring. With a squeak of glee, Hani dove into his own.

Meanwhile, the tallest occupant in the room didn't touch the slice in front of him. Instead, he watched her, the light from the setting sun framing her face, motes gliding lazily around her like ballerinas around their prima donna. She sat there, her eyes closed, a fork to her lips, pondering a slice of cake… looking for all the world like the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

Her lashes separated, and suddenly she was looking directly in his eyes. His heart skipped a beat, and couldn't seem to return to normal. It was all Hani could do not to cheer.

Haruhi broke off eye contact and directed her gaze at the shorter 3rd year. "It was very thoughtful of you to stop by."

"Ne, Haru-chan, I like visiting you!" Hani replied cheerily, mentally sighing at the lost opportunity. He continued to chatter about unimportant things, nonchalantly avoiding the actual reason they came to visit.

"Hani-sempai," Haruhi interrupted when she realized he was never going to get to the point, "why are you—"

"Haruhi." Mori spoke up suddenly, startling both his companions.

With a single gentle movement, he closed the gap between him and the girl, swiping away some icing that lingered near her mouth. So delicately, his fingers barely brushed her skin, not betraying how much he wanted to caress her cheek and trail his fingers over her lips.

But as he leaned closer, his eyes revealed a certain sadness—not pity, but empathy—and helplessness. Not unlike the look in the eyes of a bystander watching a building burn down, knowing that not everybody inside it would be saved. With that look, he told Haruhi that he knew of the reason that caused her heart all this pain, and that he felt hated the fact that he had been unable to stop it.

But with that single gesture, he told her that if she ever needed him, he would be there to help. She shouldn't feel that she was alone, because she wasn't. He wouldn't be the bystander. He would rush into that building and rescue her heart from its suffering, if she willed it to be.

And the only word he spoke was her name.

Mori returned to his seated position and, in Haruhi's eyes, assumed his incomprehensible expression. He was different from Kyouya in that he wasn't hiding his emotions on purpose for merit. His stony stature was natural, like breathing. Natural, because of his warrior sprit.

Haruhi couldn't put into words how grateful she was to have a friend like Mori, and for his offered support. His protection. Perhaps she didn't have to fix everything, including her heart, by herself anymore. In a trembling whisper she told him, "Thank you."

--

"Mitsukuni," Mori cocked an eyebrow at his cousin, who was buckling up Usa-chan in the seat next to him as the limousine pulled away from Haruhi's apartment. Hani smiled up at him.

"I'm all right, Takashi! I think Haru-chan needs all those cakes to keep her happy. She really likes them!"

"Ah," Mori replied. Their visit seemed much too short. Haruhi still seemed so fragile. He wanted to stay with her until he was sure she was okay. He wanted to be the one by her side, helping her heal. Even if it was too soon to be the one to hold her heart, he wanted to be the one picking up the pieces.

"Besides," Hani added, "you already told her everything she needed to know."

Mori smiled.

As the limo rounded the curb, he suddenly spied another limousine. His observant eyes glimpsed the plate number before it drove out of sight. The Hitachiins. What could they want with Haruhi? His forehead creased slightly. He hoped the mischievous brothers were careful. A single wrong word could send Haruhi spiraling back all the way down.

* * *

A/N: Whew, what a chapter! It probably seems boring and slow, but my impression of the MoriHaru pairing is a subtle and very sweet romance. So if it seems boring and slow, I guess I'm not doing a very good job… which sucks because I really like this pairing, though that doesn't mean it's going to end up like that. Oh, also, when Haruhi tripped, I was imagining how the doorway was lower, and the floor is raised for the rest of the house. If I'm not making sense, you can check episode 12, volume 3.

Can you guess who's coming up next? You must've seen the pattern by now. Kyouya, Mori, Hikaru; Kyouya, Mori… Kaoru?! Am I actually going to add yet _another_ competitor? Do I have a death wish or something?!

Disclaimer: The author of this story does not own Ouran.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Disclaimer: The author owns no part of Ouran High School Host Club, just the extremely annoying and slow moving plot of this story. Oh, I mention Gucci, but I don't own that either.

* * *

Haruhi's mood was in an upswing. Perhaps it was the strawberries. Perhaps it was Mori's gesture. Perhaps it was the knowledge that she had someone to rely on now. Either way, she realized she was beginning to entertain the idea of returning to school the next day. She didn't even have to confront Tamaki yet. One step at a time.

Little did she know that her next, and final, visitor had the ability to turn everything for the better… or for the worse.

She was stowing what remained of the cakes into the fridge when...

Knock knock knock.

_Dad,_ she immediately thought. She had already decided that Kyouya got into the apartment by bribing the landlady or hacking into the security system, or something along those lines.

But when she threw open the door, it wasn't a cross-dressing Ranka come home from work. It was Kaoru, all decked up in a suit and tie, a large smile on his face.

"Are you ready for our date?"

_Date_.

He didn't see. He couldn't see, how that single word sent a fresh ripple of pain running through her. How she felt like a new knife pierced the still-bleeding wound inside. "A… date?"

"Sure. Don't tell me you've forgotten about that time in Karuizawa. Hikaru took you instead that time, but now it's my turn," he replied, strolling in uninvited. He tapped his temple in thought. "We should get you fixed up a bit first," he decided. "There's a Hitachiin Designer—"

"No."

"Hm?" Kaoru looked up from his ponderings. "Would you prefer Gucci then? They're a competitor company but if it's what you want—"

"No Kaoru, I meant I'm not going. Please don't make me. I can't. I just… I'm just tired, okay?"

He finally saw her crestfallen look, at her hands unconsciously clutching her sides as if she was afraid she was going to fall apart all over again. He stepped forward and embraced her, his voice muffled in her hair when he spoke.

"Haruhi, I didn't mean it that way. I know it's too early for you to even be thinking about that. It doesn't have to be date if you don't want it to be. I just thought you'd like to get out after being cooped up in here for two days." He pulled away and looked straight into her eyes. "And I missed you."

Those wide eyes that stared into his own, so deep brown that he felt he could see her very soul, then wandered towards the kitchen. "Well, I am still pretty hungry…"

Kaoru looked at her questioningly. " 'Still'?"

"Didn't you guys see each other on the way out? Hani-sempai and Mori-sempai were here only a few minutes ago, with cake. Kyouya-sempai too."

"Is that so…" Kaoru mused, looking thoughtful, an unreadable expression on his face. "As long as the cake didn't ruin your appetite, I guess."

"And where's Hikaru?" Haruhi stuck her head out the door in search of Kaoru's other half.

He immediately grinned. "Didn't I tell you it would be just the two of us? Let's go!" He was about to drag her out the door, when he paused. They both looked down at Haruhi's state of dress. "Uhm, maybe we could stop by the hair salon too?"

--

After a visit to one of the multitude of stores all over Japan that were under the Hitachiin designer brand, the commoner and the lone twin were driven via limo to a swanky, up-and-coming new restaurant at the heart of the city.

They hadn't spent that much time picking out clothes, but once they were finished the sun had already set fully and the lights were beginning to flicker on. The night life was starting to awaken.

The limo pulled into the spacious parking lot, already being populated by other limousines, Rolls Royces, and Ferraris. The men and women stepping out of their vehicles displayed their flashy outfits and accessories, no doubt straight from the runway, each attempting to outdo the one before. The city lights twinkled as if in an attempt to mirror them, shining jewelry against the backdrop of the dark velvet sky.

Their ride stopped in front of the entrance, where Kaoru hurriedly got out and beat the chauffeur to the door. He opened it, holding out a hand for his guest of honor. She grasped it and stepped out into the night.

Kaoru, knowing Haruhi's taste in clothing fully well, did not want to force her into some over-the-top gown. However, they would be dining in a formal setting, and formal attire was required. So he searched through his mother's earlier designs, taken the dress from his mother's collection, and sent it to the proper store. He then requested for it to be included among the clothes that Haruhi was to choose from.

He guessed correctly. And it was perfect.

Pale blue. Knee-length. Short sleeves. A sash tied around the waist. Descriptions a simple passerby would give. But a person with a good eye would notice that the dress was made of light chiffon and silk, the highest quality and imported from various areas on the globe, and that the silver pattern on the hem of the skirt was not cheap glitter but diamond dust intricately woven into the design. In short, plain looking but a dress easily worth millions of yen.

Of course, Haruhi knew none of this. She didn't need to. Even without the unneeded extravagance, the dress suited her, complemented her innocent beauty. Kaoru could tell because the moment they walked through the door, she began to elicit stares from the petty rich women seated in their chairs. Whispers abounded. "Who is she?" "I don't think I've ever seen her before." "Is that one of the Hitachiin twins she's with?" The curiosity began to spread across the building.

And a certainly peculiar building it was. Haruhi stared at her surroundings. The bottom level was the size of a relatively large ballroom floor, but as she looked up she could also see second and third floors that were more like balconies, revealing an extremely high ceiling that sported a Michelangelo-esque painting.

Relics from all over the world greeted her eyes. Egyptian hieroglyphics on the walls. African animal carvings lining a spiral stair case. Greek stone statues posing next to a golden Aztecan necklace framed on the wall. Everything was odd curves and angles, painted colors that somehow clashed and blended at the same time. A world class restaurant in the truest sense.

A movement to her right caught Haruhi's eye. It was a burly man slightly hidden in the shadow. Face control. Their gazes met, and then the man glanced at her companion. Hitachiin. Guest approved. High class customers attracted high class danger, after all. _So this is where rich people dine._

The maître d' greeted them at the desk. Another eccentricity; all the waiters were wearing masks, simple white ones that covered the upper half of their face. "Good evening and welcome."

"Reservation for two under Kaoru Hitachiin," Kaoru told her.

"Ah yes, greetings Hitachiin-sama. Your table is waiting." She paused, then rechecked her list. "Only for two, Hitachiin-sama? There was one—"

She stopped because he was shaking his head fervently, signaling her to be quiet. Haruhi was looking at her confusedly.

"O-oh, I, um, shall I show you to your seats then?" She walked hurriedly away, wondering what this guest was up to.

She stopped at what seemed to be just a pair of heavy velvet curtains, similar to those hanging all around the room. Haruhi figured they were just there to cover the windows, or to shield the patrons from the paparazzi that were beginning to gather outside. But their hostess parted the curtains and waved the pair through. "Here we are."

They were definitely not eating on a window.

It was a room made entirely of glass, seeming to be surrounded by a fish tank. Or, more correctly, seemed to be _inside_ a fish tank. The curved dome of a ceiling created the impression that the diner was floating in a bubble amidst the creatures' watery habitat.

Haruhi placed a foot forward, unsure whether the floor would support her weight. Kaoru grabbed her hand and pulled her in, laughing. She tottered uneasily forward, placing her palm against the glass, making a school of angelfish skitter away behind some corals, seaweeds dancing to an unseen current.

Kaoru watched the wonder on her face, and smiled. He sat at the table in the middle of the room, and waited for her to join him. "Do you like it?" he asked.

"I've never been to the aquarium before," she replied. For a moment, she stared blankly down at the table. Then she looked back up at him. "Um, why is our table empty…?" And she was right; it was empty besides for the tablecloth and a lone orchid in a vase as decoration.

"Oh, that's because the type of cutlery you use depends on the type of food you order. They have chefs trained from almost every single continent. If you order American style food for example, you get a fork and knife, and so on. Which reminds me," he gestured towards a cart that was being rolled in a by another masked waiter, "in which country would you like to eat tonight?"

Haruhi was not very confident about her skills with foreign utensils. And something was nagging her mind. Aquarium…fish…seafood…

"Ah, would you… that is, um," she started embarrassedly, "do you serve Japanese food?"

The waiter coughed in a futile effort to hide his laugh, and obediently brought forth two of the proper menus from the cart, a smile tugging his lips as he pushed the cart back out through the curtains.

Haruhi took one, bashfully refusing to meet Kaoru's amused gaze, and flipped straight to the sushi selection. She scanned the rather lengthy list. Then she read through it again.

"Is something wrong Haruhi?" Kaoru asked, seeing her downcast look.

"Ah. No."

"Were you… looking for something?"

"Not really."

"Perhaps you were looking for some—"

"Ootoro?" The masked waiter was back, this time carrying a platter of just that. "Compliments of the chef."

Haruhi's eyes widened, as she nodded disbelievingly. The waiter placed a plate in front of her, as well as a pair of chopsticks.

Immediately she picked up a slice, as if thinking that this moment was a dream and would disappear soon. She placed it on her tongue, and chewed quietly. Silence. Swallow.

"Do you like it?" The waiter hedged.

She turned to him. Her face lit up with the biggest smile. "Yes!" She laughed. "Yes I do."

The waiter blinked inside his mask, feeling heat rising to his cheeks. He quickly bowed and began to leave the room.

"Wait!" Haruhi called out. "Where are you going, Hikaru?"

He paused at the curtains, his hand poised to pull it back. Slowly, slowly, he turned around.

Suddenly, he chuckled, pulling off his mask and dropping it on the glass floor. He waved to a real waiter, who was standing by outside the curtains, who brought in another chair. He settled next to Kaoru, who sighed contentedly and folded his hands behind his head. "The jig is up."

"How did you know it was me?" Hikaru asked.

Haruhi shrugged. "You don't make a very good waiter." Hikaru laughed again.

"Did you guys plan all this?" She asked in turn.

"Not really…"

"… I did mostly." Kaoru finished.

"Well, why?" She prodded.

Kaoru's eyes slid over to his brother, then returned to Haruhi. "Let's just say, it affects all of us when you're sad. So don't be sad anymore, ok?"

Haruhi stared down at the ootoro. It was dangled in front of her so many times, just out of her reach. It was very unlike Hikaru and Kaoru to let go of the bait.

She glanced up at her two friends. Her lips pulled up into a half smile. "I'll do my best."

Hikaru felt like he was falling in love all over again.

--

Haruhi realized she was extremely lucky.

The twins accompanied her home, insisting she keep the dress, though she would most likely never have another chance to wear it in her life. At least she got the notes from the past few school days that she missed.

She was waving goodbye at the retreating limo from the second floor balcony, when the thought occurred to her. Kyouya, Hani, Mori, Kaoru, and Hikaru; they all went through the trouble of trying to cheer her up in their own way. And they succeeded. They _were_ her friends, after all. It would be doing them a favor if she set things straight as soon as possible. The balance in the club had been thrown off-kilter, and if she allowed herself to continue to be dragged along by her emotions, she knew the peace in her school life would never return to normal again.

It was also for her father. She found Ranka locked up in the broom closet a few minutes later. A while ago, after Kyouya had left and Haruhi was able to walk around, he had apparently tried to hide himself, forgetting that the doorknob on the closet door was only on the outside. When she asked him why, he broke down and started sobbing. He began to splutter about giving up cross-dressing and being a proper father, as long as he didn't remind her of "that blonde-haired insect" anymore. Haruhi instantly embraced him, one of the most open displays of affection she had shown him in the longest time. _Especially for you, Dad._

Both her 3rd year sempai made sure she knew that they were there to support her, whether it be physical protection, or just a shoulder to cry on.

And Kyouya? Obviously he wanted her to "get better soon," for some devious plot or another. She had the weird feeling that the almost-kiss was completely planned, to effectively surprise and jump-start her system. Well, it worked didn't it? Besides, what was more futile than trying to resist an Ohtori?

So Haruhi knew she had all the reason to return to school the next day and change her life for the better. No more stalling, no more excuses. The quicker she dealt with the problem, the sooner her heart would begin to heal.

As she got into bed that night, she also knew. The only thing holding her back was herself.

* * *

A/N: Ugh, yeah. No excuses for me either. Just that my flow of creativity has become something comparable to the Saharan Desert during a drought. I revised and re-revised so many times but I still hate this chapter, especially the beginning. I think I'm going to take a short break and try to map this story out somewhat. Before you send me hate mail, please keep in mind that you would _not_ want to read the next few chapters with weeks in between. The events will happen at a much faster pace, and I won't be able to get away with making up a chapter as I go along, like I've been doing so far. Just consider this a momentary hiatus. Two months at MOST.

My apologies if this seems like a horrible place to end, but I thought it suitable because it's the last chapter about this day. Crap, all but one of my chapters so far have been about the same day?! See, I have a valid reason to take a vacation. Though, I'll still be working on it, I just won't be posting anything.

Lastly, you know those "How's My Driving?" signs on trucks? Yeah, I feel like that sign: always there but ignored by the vast majority. At least, when it comes to asking for reviews. But any ideas would be very VERY helpful, and I'm extremely thankful to some of the readers that review virtually every chapter.

Well, here's where I end this extremely long note and say goodbye for now. "Goodbye for now!"


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Ranka crept into the dark room worriedly. However, his daughter's sleeping form was untouched by the thunderstorm raging outside. The clear evening's star-dappled view had been overrun by angry rainclouds sometime around midnight. Now the rain pelted itself across the roof and threw itself onto the windows, threatening to break through but splattering harmlessly against the solid glass. The muted drumming was endless.

An alarm clock glared a neon green 1:30 into the darkness. Ranka had missed half of his shift, but the manager was a good friend, he would understand. He crawled closer to Haruhi to kiss her a goodbye, and an apology. He worried she would wake while he was gone, but he needed to work. Her brows were furrowed, making her look serious and grown up even in her dreams. Ranka fought back the guilt that was rising like bile up his throat and left the apartment, huddled low beneath an umbrella. Fat, noisy droplets splashed and bounced on his protective tarp; thunder, though far off, roiled ominously.

Three blocks later, as if by miracle, the headlights of a taxi cab shone through the pouring water from the direction he had come. Ranka couldn't hail it fast enough.

"Busy neighborhood, eh sir? Er, ma'am…? Oh, uh…" The driver who had been making polite conversation stuttered to a halt, as his customer settled in the seat (and he finally saw the makeup). Ranka took no offense and directed him to his destination.

The taxi drove off, leaving the rain-drenched neighborhood in the dark—

And with a visitor. The taxi's previous passenger stood rooted to the cement, staring up at a certain window even as speeding droplets stung his face….

Hours later the rising sun chased away the gray blanket in the sky, leaving but a satin fog. He stood still as if time flowed around him, his lonely silhouette thrown against the bare sidewalk while the sky eased itself from the murky hold of nighttime into a soft dawn. The first sleepy bird began to twitter in its sentry post, and a movement flickered in that window. Only then, awakening from a trance (the mist weaving itself, wrapping itself, fading away yet leaving a sparkle of dewdrops on everything it touched) the stranger turned to climb a flight of rusty stairs, each slow step sending a patter of drops cascading onto the pavement below.

---

Haruhi's dreams ended before the beeping, screeching nuisance known as an alarm clock could make a peep.

It was oddly peaceful, waking naturally, allowing her to open her eyes and view with renewed interest the way the sunlight danced through her curtains and how the silence lay like a weightless blanket over the room. But being Haruhi she did not dwell on this a moment longer than necessary. A few minutes later the bed was made, the note found (_Left for work, have a good day! –Dad_), and the rice bubbling gently on the stove.

Being Haruhi, the _normal_ Haruhi, her day was planned like clockwork. Hikaru and Kaoru (they couldn't be bothered to do it themselves) had asked several female schoolmates to take notes for Haruhi's missed classes. This spared her much work (she'd make sure to thank them personally) and fortunately there were no upcoming tests in the near future, so with a few extra hours of studying that weekend she was sure to get back on her scholarly track.

As for hosting and her debt, the calculations were much vaguer. Kyouya as always would smoothly evade her questions whenever she asked for a specific figure of her bottomless debt, constantly making her wonder how much of a dent she had made, if any.

And the incident. Of course, she and Tamaki would need to discuss things, clearly and maturely (this should have been done sooner, she thinks). Things would end if they have to. In fact, perhaps it would be better to do it after school when no one could witness whatever scene he might cause.

Her nerves thrummed slightly. Out of character. That's how she felt about it all. She obviously didn't know him as well as she thought she did. Haruhi couldn't imagine how he would respond, how he would feel. Would he collapse, sobbing, in that melodramatic way of his? Or would he dismiss it all with his heart-melting smile, and say it was all a joke? Would he laugh, beg?

The speculation, Haruhi found, was giving her a headache, and the stove pot whistled for attention. She would deal with things as they came, and after all (she remembers with a smile) she isn't alone.

Haruhi prepared her lunch and donned her uniform, sparing a moment to wish her mother a good morning. Without another thought, an unconscious warning, a precautionary perception (you'd think as a heroine she would've felt _something_) she pulled open the door.

.

.

.

And there he was. Her plans all washed away as a cool morning draft that swept around the both of them ruffled her blue jacket and made his wet sweater stick to his skin.

"Tamaki." She said his voice with neither bitter hatred nor sugary affection (as she once had in the past, not so long ago). They say, after all, that shock is nature's anesthesia. Pure surprise.

He stared at her face intensely, as if inside him was a fierce but silent war, while golden locks (usually so studiously cared for) clung to his face and rivulets of water drip-dripped down his neck. A small puddle had formed at his feet. He had been standing at that spot for a while, it seemed, but his clothes would not dry in the chilly morning air.

The stillness lasted so long (the slowness of time they say is induced only by adrenaline, true love, and perhaps torture), her hand rose to touch the figure in front of her, wondering if it was a hallucination. The mirage would shimmer and fade into the fog that pervaded the air. But her fingertips made contact with matter, the physical contact shattering the silence that was less like a blanket now, and more like a block of ice in which they were both crystallized.

"They think I'm a fool," he started, like he was jolted into existence by her touch. She dropped her hand. "They think… and maybe I am, but I know… maybe if I tell you… maybe…"

He was trembling now, standing at the open doorway as the wind nipped the bare skin it could reach. With a flash of something in his eyes (some would call it hope, others desperation), he grabbed her face and kissed her. Then he flung himself away just as quickly, as if his lips had been stung by a thorn.

"It still doesn't…" He muttered, staring straight into her eyes with that forceful gaze as if willing himself to do something, and yet the same amethyst orbs wore the look of an animal pinned by the throat to the slaughtering block. Tears welled and dropped, tears that were as clear as the raindrops that also slid down his face, and for a moment the girl wondered if those tears were as real as the ones she had cried a few nights ago. He started laughing, encouraging her doubts until she realized the laughter was manic and edgy, feverish.

Then as if invisible marionette strings were suddenly snipped, the blonde fell forward onto her, making her stagger to the ground. The burning temperature of his skin she now felt on her own. "I'm a coward," he mumbled before his eyes slid shut and he lost complete consciousness.

---

Kyouya knew something was wrong for sure when Chairman Suoh called him to his office.

He was uncertain why he felt simply _off _that morning. Then he realized, to put it in overused words: it was too quiet. His suspicions grew when a certain blonde idiot did not barrel through the classroom doors with flamboyant disregard at the beginning of class. It blossomed into worried theorizing and conjectures while he sat alone in the lunchroom with only a laptop for company. The tranquility was disturbing. He emailed Tachibana and soon his eyes and ears were gathering information. But it was all confirmed at the end of the school day as the Ohtori exited his classroom and was summoned by a nameless first-year whose family and lineage Kyouya recognized on the spot and filed away for future reference.

Tamaki was missing. He was not at the second Suoh mansion, and no one had seen him leave that morning. The Chairman vainly hoped that his son's best friend would know of his whereabouts. Kyouya did not.

That is, until several seconds after he stepped out of the Chairman's office, when his phone rang.

---

A/N: You are all amazing. I can't believe people kept reading and favoriting (is that a word?) despite a year without a single update. I love you all. Really. Don't be creeped out.

Thank you, for not giving me up for dead. You have been rewarded with a cliff-hanger. No, actually, I'm sorry about that. This would have been longer, but I wanted to get something out before my self-esteem crashed again. I wanted this story to mean something. You guys have no idea how many drafts I went through. _I_ have no idea. But I won't bore you with my life story. Suffice it to say that I felt my writing needed much more improvement, more focus, more meaning as I've already said. I don't know if I accomplished that. But I do hope you've noticed _some_ kind of change. Heck, it's been a year, if I'm still writing like an eighth grader (no offense to all you eighth graders) I don't deserve to be a writer. There goes the old self-esteem again. Aw, and I told myself I wouldn't ramble.

But please, readers, if you really are still out there and this world is not an object of my hallucinations, drop me a line. Like the new style, don't notice the difference? Push the button. You know you want to.


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